


Home for the Howlidays

by tirralirra



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Animal Transformation, Christmas, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Magical Shenanigans, Multi, Post-Time Skip, Temporary Animal Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28311210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tirralirra/pseuds/tirralirra
Summary: Kiyoomi is a so-called “dog person.” Dogs are cute. He likes them—he just never thought in a million years that he’d one day be one.Oh h*ck.....Or, Kiyoomi learns what it means to love Miya Atsumu (love) through the magic of Christmas. As a dog.
Relationships: Komori Motoya/Suna Rintarou (implied), Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Shirofuku Yukie (mentioned)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 246





	Home for the Howlidays

**Author's Note:**

> **CW:** Holiday-related angst, animal transformation  
> This fic is about celebrating Christmas, but mostly in a secular/Japanese couples’ holiday interpretation. Atsumu experiences a bit of holiday-related angst, which I know can be a very real and lonely experience for many. Please mind that concept and take care of your mental health in reading this ❤️
> 
>  **There is no intended sexual pet play in this fic.** The animal transformation by its nature makes for some awkward situations and language, and there is likewise some awkward situational humor, but please take it for the crack-premise it is. If you think it might make you uncomfortable, please do not proceed.

*   
==   
===   
=

_ December 19th _

“I hate Christmas,” Kiyoomi says, apropos of nothing. Well, not quite nothing. They’ve been meandering through the crowded streets of Shinsaibashi on the hunt for “the perfect gifts, Omi-omi!” for nearly two hours. The jostling of pedestrians, arms laden with too many shopping bags, the annoying blinking of the string light display above their heads, and the cheesy decorations adorning store fronts and signs grates on Kiyoomi’s last nerve. If he hears the opening strains to that what’s-her-face-Kerry? Carey? Song  _ one more time _ he might just snap.

Beside him, Atsumu seems to stumble for a second, but quickly rights himself to keep pace with Kiyoomi as they weave through the crowd. He doesn’t reply, so Kiyoomi takes that as a cue to continue.

“All the cheap, kitschy decorations. The ridiculous Santa story that we throw at kids. And once you’re not a kid anymore, there’s the whole romantic magical holiday dating fluff that they expect everyone to buy into. It’s nothing but fabricated obligations and shallow consumerism. What’s so magical about that? And the crowds,” he finishes with a distasteful glance around them. “I hate it, Atsumu.”

Beside him, Atsumu shifts and burrows deeper into his scarf. He doesn’t say anything at first, but eventually pops back up to toss him a crooked little smile.

“Note to self: no more shopping dates with Omi-kun,” Atsumu says drily. 

“No  _ Christmas _ shopping dates,” Kiyoomi corrects. “No Christmas anything, really,” he mutters under his breath.

Atsumu purses his lips at that, looking down in thought. “Well, we made it to that movie you mentioned earlier. And I got most of my holiday shopping done. It wasn’t all a bust, huh? What else did you expect, Omi-kun?”

“Less...glitter, for one.” Kiyoomi sighs, brushing an errant sparkle from his black wool coat that a passing merrymaker must’ve dropped, like some hellish winter fairy. “Please tell me you’re almost finished after this. I cannot wait for this godforsaken holiday to be over and done with…”

“Um,, yeah. Sure Omi, just one more stop,” Atsumu turns away quickly then, stepping ahead with purpose. Kiyoomi frowns a little after him. Was Atsumu starting to feel the cold too? They should head back to his apartment soon. He doesn’t want either of them to catch a cold on top of all this holiday nonsense.

===

Atsumu is unusually quiet on their way back. Kiyoomi could chalk it up to the cold, or social decorum on the train, or any number of other things, but it is a heavy silence, one that grows in weight as they approach Atsumu’s apartment building.

They stumble inside together with all the grace two 180 centimeter plus athletes can muster in the tiny entryway. Heavy winter coats and hats and gloves come off in a familiar dance around each other to avoid stepping on toes and jabbing elbows into sides.

Atsumu finishes first, carelessly throwing his outerwear onto the hooks and table by the door. He pulls on his house slippers, and places Kiyoomi’s out for him as he steps up from the genkan towards the living room. Kiyoomi sighs, straightening out Atsumu’s belongings and hanging his own before moving to join him.

He detours to the kitchen to put on the kettle for tea and lingers at the counter, looking over Atsumu’s living room. Atsumu is already tucked into one side of the kotatsu in the middle of the space, curled into a hanten and staring mindlessly at a soccer match replaying mutely on the television. 

He looks distinctly gloomy for just returning from a date. Usually Atsumu is all smiles after a day out together, rare enough as they are, two months into the V.League season and only three months into dating properly. They’re together so much for professional reasons, and busy so often with related obligations outside of that time, that dedicated  _ dates, _ just for the two of them, number only a handful.

Kiyoomi decides the soft approach is the best. If Atsumu is really upset, he’ll probably bring it up himself sooner or later.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi calls from the kitchen, “do you want some tea?”

Atsumu merely grunts. Kiyoomi feels his patience, especially thin from the crowds earlier, start to fray further.

“Please use your words, Miya,” Kiyoomi huffs, a little less light-hearted than he meant. So much for the soft approach.

“I could say the same to you, Sakusa,” Atsumu straightens suddenly and looks at him, snapping his words with more ferocity than Kiyoomi expects.

“Excuse me?” What the hell is Atsumu’s problem? If anything, Kiyoomi should be the one who’s annoyed here. Atsumu drags him out for a movie date that ends up more shopping than film, and ignores him as soon as they return to his apartment?

“If you hated our date so much, you should’ve said something earlier,” Atsumu says.

“I didn’t hate our date,” Kiyoomi snaps back. “I just hate Christmas, Atsumu.” 

“And? What about Christmas then?” Atsumu says, voice rising a little.

Kiyoomi hears the kettle hiss on the stovetop. “What about it? It’s nothing special—I don’t celebrate it. In fact, I’ll be busy that day, if you were expecting anything.” he says as he turns around to busy himself with tea. 

“Wha—? What do you mean you’re busy? It’s—it’s Christmas, Omi-kun!” Atsumu isn’t quite shouting, but he is quite impassioned.

“I always go back to see my family for New Years the week before,” he replies, forcibly calm. “It’s the one time of year that my family gets together.” 

“Omi,” Atsumu whines, “it’s our first Christmas as a couple! And you’re telling me this  _ now? _ ”

Kiyoomi doesn’t have any expectations for the two of them on this dumb holiday. It’s not a sentiment that Atsumu seems to share. He didn’t think Atsumu would be the type to care about nominal “couple” days, but here they are. 

To be honest, Kiyoomi is a little taken aback at how upset Atsumu is about this. Since they made their relationship official, right before the start of the season, they agreed to focus on the team first. They haven’t gone out much as a couple, since they are together as teammates often enough, and were good enough friends in that context. It’s new enough too that they haven’t told anyone, with the exception of Osamu. This is maybe part of the problem; nobody thinks they will be spending the holiday with anybody special.

Atsumu continues talking as Kiyoomi makes his way over with the tea. He’s actually working up into a bit of a rant. “What about our romantic Christmas date?! You know, going to see an illumination, or going skating, or something? Eating KFC and cake together? I know you hate crowds, but there’s still plenty to do together,” Atsumu trails off. “When are you leaving?”

“I’m sorry, Atsumu. I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m gone through New Years.” He punctuates this statement by placing the teacups down firmly. 

Kiyoomi feels bad, he really does. But, they are both adults. They are busy athletes with training and sponsorships and interpersonal relationships beyond this, their fairly recent designation as a “couple.” 

Kiyoomi’s family doesn’t celebrate Christmas and never really did. But, with his older siblings as career-focused and busy as himself, the year’s end is the one time they dedicate to convening as a family. His parents expect him home, without question.

He still hasn’t told them about Atsumu. He’s still not sure if he can.

“But—”

“Atsumu.” Kiyoomi says his name a little sharper than he intended, but Atsumu stops, looking at Kiyoomi forlornly. He sighs. “Look, it’s not like we can go out like any other couple on Christmas anyways.”

He goes on before Atsumu can interject.

“And besides, like I said before, I don’t see the point in celebrating some dumb ‘couple’s holiday’ because the world thinks we should or whatever. It’s all fake.”

He thought he could get Atsumu to see how frivolous this is, getting worked up about what amounts to a clever marketing scheme. It is the wrong thing to say. Atsumu’s expression darkens with frightening speed.

“Fake,” Atsumu growls. “You think my feelings are fake?”

“That’s not what I said—”

“I know what you said, but it mostly just sounded like a lot of dumb excuses for not being together. I get that we’re not going public or anything anytime soon, but that’s all the more reason to celebrate in our own way when we can.”

“Atsumu. I’m not saying we’re fake, and it’s not that I don’t want to be with you, I just,” Kiyoomi heaves another sigh, “look, I’m sorry I can’t be here for Christmas. I was just trying to make you feel better that it wasn’t such a big deal to me.”

“Well, it didn’t work,” Atsumu stops him. “You know, I think you should go. I mean. I’m sorry, Omi-kun. I’m really trying here, but I think if we keep going around like this, I’m going to say something I regret.”

“Okay,” Kiyoomi places his still-full cup of tea back on the table. He gets up and walks towards the door. “You’re right. All this holiday talk is stressful. And we’ve got to think about the team, the season. Let’s just...use this time to take a short break. I’ll call you when I get back.”

“Fine,” Atsumu replies, curt, following him to the door.

Kiyoomi pulls on his coat and gloves in silence. It’s exceedingly awkward. Atsumu watches with a tight expression. 

“I guess I’ll see you after New Year’s, then.” Atsumu grits out as Kiyoomi snaps on a mask and gives a quick nod. Kiyoomi reaches for the door handle, and behind him Atsumu says, a little softer, “Take care, Omi-kun.” 

===

It’s snowing when Kiyoomi steps out of Atsumu’s place. There is already a thin layer blanketing the sidewalks, transforming the mundane shapes of parked cars and trees into marvelous topography in a glittery landscape. Kiyoomi sets off towards his apartment with a little sigh, resigned to the inevitable sensation of wet socks due to his poor choice of footwear. For a second he debates returning to borrow some boots from Atsumu, but thinks better of it. Atsumu’s temper and his own nerves are very near a boiling point. Going back wouldn’t do either of them any favors.

The further Kiyoomi walks from Atsumu, the deeper he gets into replaying the events of the day and their argument. And the more he thinks about it, the more frustrated he feels. He’s a little annoyed with Atsumu for making assumptions without talking to him. But, he feels guilty too, and irked at that feeling as well. He is pretty sure he is in the right here; Atsumu should have checked with him first. There was never a guarantee that they would spend Christmas together. Sure, Kiyoomi could have mentioned his plans earlier too, but it’s just like Atsumu to barrel on ahead, leaving others behind.

Taking a mini break right now will be good for them, let them rethink their priorities and how to best keep moving forward with their relationship. He decides he shouldn’t feel bad, but the image of Atsumu looking like a kicked puppy doesn’t leave his mind either.

_ Gods above,  _ Kiyoomi thinks, exasperated,  _ I wish I could understand what goes on in Miya Atsumu’s mind. _

“Is that your Christmas wish?” says a voice behind Kiyoomi. He spins around, startled. There is nobody behind him—nobody around him at all, in fact. It’s late in Atsumu’s neighborhood, a quiet residential area. Kiyoomi is in the middle of a small park that sees most of its traffic during daylight hours. He frowns, and looks down.

There’s a dog standing in front of Kiyoomi. It looks like the quintessential shiba inu: pricked, fox-like ears stand at proud attention, a tail curls elegantly over the back, and its tongue lolls cheerfully from its mouth. It’s a cute dog, undoubtedly. He would approach it in most other circumstances, but Kiyoomi eyes it warily instead. Its tan coat color and the jaunty set of its oval, white eyebrow markings give him pause. The resemblance to Motoya is...uncanny. Even several prefectures away, his cousin manages to haunt him.

Kiyoomi hesitates to acknowledge the dog. Those eyebrows may look innocent, but they always seem to  _ know _ something. Besides, dogs can’t speak.

Then, miraculously, the voice speaks again, and it can only be coming from the dog in front of him.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” it says, mouth moving in perfect mimicry to the words.

Kiyoomi stumbles back in surprise and trips over the stonework lining the park path. He falls backwards, landing gracelessly in the snow. The dog merely trots up to him in response and sits down to stare at Kiyoomi. Now they are at eye level with each other.

This can’t be real.

“Oh no, this is real, I assure you, Sakusa Kiyoomi,” the dog says, pausing to daintily lick some snow from a paw. The streetlamps glinting off the flakes in its fur give it an odd sort of halo. 

“How—”

“Humans are funny. You make up so many different names and stories for us. Though I don’t mind this whole ‘Christmas’ idea like you seem to, even if I don’t understand it,” the dog chuckles. “Flying reindeer? Talking snowmen?”

“You’re literally a talking dog,” Kiyoomi replies, then internally cringes. Maybe don’t antagonize the magical talking dog, Kiyoomi.

The dog just laughs again. “Tonight, for you, Sakusa-kun, I am, because dogs are one of the best creatures in this world to understand love. You made a ‘Christmas’ wish, and the gods heard you.”

The dog grins, or, well, does the canine equivalent of a toothy smile. It would be cute if Kiyoomi were not confused and a little alarmed. 

Before Kiyoomi can ask what it means, the dog wags its tail and jumps right at him. He flings up his arms to try and catch it, but the dog  _ jumps through him,  _ passing through his chest. He jerks abruptly and twists to look behind him, but there is no sign of the dog. Glancing wildly around, there is no sign of anything or anyone in the deserted park. The snow continues falling. 

Kiyoomi shakes his head. He must be tired, exhausted from the long day and the disagreement he had with Atsumu. He needs to sleep. He feels like his limbs grow heavier with every snowflake. He stands up, brushes himself off, and turns to go home.

*   
==   
===   
=

_ December 20th _

It’s cold. The tip of his nose feels chilly, and oddly...damp? The rest of him is quite comfortably warm, though. Kiyoomi shifts, moving to stretch out his muscles and joints from sleep.

Something is wrong.

Kiyoomi blinks his eyes open. Everything is bright—too bright for his bedroom. He keeps light-blocking curtains on his bedroom window for a reason. He lets his eyes focus, and realizes that he’s outside. He’s lying on the ground, but everything looks...wrong, somehow. The world looks washed out, like someone bleached the fabric of the scenery haphazardly. Last night’s snow still covers the ground and makes many things white, but Kiyoomi spies a post box from where he’s lying and instead of a cheerful red, it’s a dull gray.

When he moves to stand up and look closer, his legs feel all wrong too. He looks down, and can’t quite believe what he sees.

Instead of arms, he sees two furry appendages that end in paws. If he looks further, where he expected two human legs, he sees two additional furry limbs. And is—is that a tail?

Kiyoomi shouts, but instead of his own voice, he hears a dog yelping instead.

Instinct kicks in and he leaps to his feet. He skitters through the snow on four (four!) legs. He recognizes the area around him as the park near Atsumu’s apartment. There is a little dental clinic next to the park with a set of glass doors and Kiyoomi skids to a stop in front of them. It confirms this nightmare.

Kiyoomi looks in the glass and a dog stares back at him. It’s a black dog, similar to the shiba-inu he saw last night, but clearly more of a mutt with a mostly black coat, accented by a white fur at his muzzle, underbelly, and paws. There are pointy ears and a curly tail. The dog in the reflection looks as shocked as a dog can look, but is otherwise, well, pretty cute. 

He must be dreaming, but everything feels real. The ground is cold under his paws, the snow melting on his fur feels wet, and when he pants little clouds of breath rise up in front of him. What is going on? How did this happen? And more importantly, how can he change back?

He turns around and trots back to the park. It’s still early in the morning. There shouldn’t be many people out and about yet. He needs to figure out where to go and what to do, but for now, he’ll hide out in the park, since it’s familiar enough.

As he ponders the situation, pacing a fresh trail through the snow in the park, a whisper of a memory from the night before echoes through his mind.

_ You made a Christmas wish, and the gods heard you. _

Sure, he might’ve said something dumb that sounded like a wish, but Kiyoomi doesn’t actually believe in wishing. He was just venting about his argument with Atsumu, and—

_ I wish I could understand what goes on in Miya Atsumu’s mind. _

That...sounds right, but it doesn’t make things any clearer to him. What does being a dog have to do with understanding his boyfriend?!

“Hey buddy,” a familiar voice intrudes on Kiyoomi’s frantic thoughts. 

Oh no. Speak of the devil.

He turns around, and Atsumu stands before him, looking concerned. He kneels down and tries to placate what probably looks like a distressed dog to him. 

“Are you okay, pooch?” Atsumu asks softly, and offers a hand out slowly towards Kiyoomi to sniff. Kiyoomi freezes.

His first instinct was to bolt. He doesn’t want Atsumu to see him like this. He doesn’t want to see Atsumu like this.

But then he catches a whiff of Atsumu and—oh. He always thought Atsumu smells pleasant enough; he uses inoffensively scented toiletries and has good self hygiene. Kiyoomi has no complaints. But this—this is different. Atsumu smells...good. Comforting. Warm, even though they’re standing outside in December. It’s uniquely Atsumu, Kiyoomi decides.

He steps forward and nuzzles into Atsumu’s outstretched hand without thinking. Atsumu smiles. 

“Aw, you’re pretty friendly aren’t you,” he says, and begins to pet Kiyoomi in earnest. Kiyoomi-the-person would recoil at this sudden display of unbridled affection. Kiyoomi-the-dog  _ loves _ it, and oooh, could he scratch that ear a little more to the—yeah, perfect. 

Kiyoomi’s trying to focus, but it’s difficult when Atsumu finds the right spot behind his ear. Still, he hears Atsumu talk to himself through the haze of canine bliss.

“No collar, huh. You lost, buddy? I should probably take you to a shelter—”

No no no, Kiyoomi can’t go to a shelter. He needs to figure out how to turn back into a human, and if anyone can help him, it’s probably Atsumu. He’s the whole reason he’s in this mess, judging on his murky recollection. Kiyoomi’s mind starts racing once again, but the rest of him is content to let Atsumu continue his ministrations.

“—but it’s pretty cold, and you’re all wet, and I don’t have a car,” Atsumu says, still rambling. “Say, do you want to come with me, little guy?”

===

If Atsumu finds it weird that a random dog willingly follows him home without any coaxing, then he doesn’t show it. Instead he looks simply ecstatic, cheeks dimpling from his smile and bright red from the chill on the air as he gestures to Kiyoomi and guides their way.

When they finally enter Atsumu’s apartment, Kiyoomi feels apprehensive. What’s he supposed to do now? Stay with Atsumu until this hopefully wears off? Is there some sort of requirement he has to fulfill? A test? Some kind of magical dog quest?

Then a shadow looms over Kiyoomi. He looks up, and remembers how big Atsumu is as a person, because as a dog, Atsumu is absolutely giant to Kiyoomi. It’s not scary, but it feels like an affirmation of his precarious situation. He feels small, and vulnerable, and extremely out of his depth. He realizes he’s going to need to depend on Atsumu for a lot of things in this form. It’s like some horrible crash course in living together. This isn’t the way Kiyoomi would’ve wanted to get to know Atsumu’s living habits. 

Atsumu scoops him up unceremoniously and Kiyoomi is so dazed that he doesn’t think to struggle. He carries him from the entrance into the apartment proper, and it’s weird, seeing and smelling this familiar space with his new senses, but all of that leaves Kiyoomi’s mind as soon as he realizes where they’re going.

He really does start to wriggle then, not that it does much. Atsumu has him in a firm, but comfortable hold.

“Alright buddy, I know, I know, let’s just get you into a bath real quick. I figure you’re probably a little cold and you’re definitely already wet from the snow, so let’s just get you warmed up, okay?”

This is so mortifying. The thought of Atsumu bathing him as a dog before they’ve bathed together as two humans is absurd. His tail and ears droop without his consent.

Atsumu picks up on Kiyoomi’s feelings, and he pats his head reassuringly. “Aw, don’t worry buddy, it’ll be real nice and gentle, we’ll get you cleaned up and you’ll feel loads better, I promise.”

It’s not as bad as Kiyoomi envisioned. In fact, after getting used to the initially unnerving sensation of water running through his fur, it feels...pretty good. Atsumu’s dexterous fingers work into his coat and it feels akin to a massage. It’s kind of nice being pampered. He’s so used to taking care of himself fastidiously, that he forgets what it feels like to rely on somebody else. And of all people to take care of him, he’s finding that Atsumu will do it right, in whatever form he may take.

===

Freshly clean and toweled off, now lying on a soft throw rug that Atsumu placed in the living room, Kiyoomi watches Atsumu pace between the kitchen and living room, muttering to himself and squinting at his phone.

“Let’s see...leash, food, food bowls, toys, dog bed, treats, brush, shampoo. Hm, what else, what else?” He punctuates his list with erratic typing on his phone. If the buzzing is anything to go by, he’s also in a furious text conversation with someone. Osamu, probably.

Kiyoomi is honestly kind of surprised at how quickly Atsumu adapts to him, and how thoroughly he throws himself into preparing his life for a dog. It’s something that he always knew in the abstract, that Atsumu is endlessly compassionate past his rough edges, that he learns about and adapts to others earnestly. But in the absence of another, well,  _ person _ to meet his feelings and efforts, that earnesty just translates to whole-hearted attention and care. Does Atsumu’s apartment even allow pets?

“—Omi”

Kiyoomi perks up inadvertently at the sound of his name. A curse of his newly acquired sensitive hearing. He looks over at Atsumu, and Atsumu grins back at him.

“Ohoho, do you like that name? Are you an ‘Omi’ too, pooch?” Atsumu walks over and starts petting Kiyoomi once again. Against his human reservations, dog-Kiyoomi finds this wonderful and immediately rolls over for Atsumu to pet his stomach. 

Atsumu scritches his belly and keeps talking. “Well, I guess you do need a name. I can’t keep calling you ‘pooch’ forever. But I don’t think Omi-kun would appreciate it if I named you after him, even if you do kind of remind me of him.” That’s right, even if he  _ is  _ actually the dog in question.

“Hm…Omi, Omi-kun, Kiyoomi, Kiyo, Ki—” Atsumu’s hands still, and Kiyoomi hates that he instantly wants more. “How about...Kiyotarou! There, that’s not  _ really _ his name. We’ll even use a different kanji, the one for ‘clean’ instead of ‘sacred’. Ha, still very Omi-like.”

Atsumu resumes his petting, furiously scrubbing his hands through fur before grabbing Kiyoomi’s head and planting a soft kiss on top. “I’ll call you Tarou when he’s around, but between you and me, you’ll always be Kii-chan.”

And Atsumu smiles a dopey grin again, and instead of annoyance, Kiyoomi’s heart clenches with affection.

===

“Kii-chan!”

Kiyoomi stirs up from a light nap at the sound of Atsumu coming home. Atsumu left well over two hours ago, and there wasn’t much Kiyoomi could think of to occupy himself with in his absence.

He lifts himself up and trots over to the entryway, where Atsumu has all manner of bags spread out on the floor as he pulls off his outerwear.

The dog bed is the most obvious, huge and fluffy and what must be a monstrously hideous neon green, even to his compromised color vision. The bags show a logo of a local pet store, and Kiyoomi can smell various strange and delightful things from inside. It’s sort of unbelievable that Atsumu has gone this far for a stray dog he just picked up, mere hours into their companionship, but it’s also exactly what Atsumu would do, Kiyoomi realizes with a rush of fondness.

Atsumu smiles at him when he sees Kiyoomi greeting him at the door. Kiyoomi’s tail wags instinctually in response.

“Aw, you’re already coming to greet me huh? Man, who would’ve thought how nice that is. I could get used to that.” Atsumu keeps grinning.

“Well I got a bunch of stuff for you, Kii-chan, you’re gonna love it. But first,” and Atsumu digs into one of the bags, looking for something.

Kiyoomi watches with interest, then blanches when Atsumu finds his prize.

He pulls out a collar. And not just any collar—it’s gold, and sparkly. It has some kind of faux-gilded thread woven throughout, and it shimmers in the dim light. There’s a small, gold bow fashioned onto one side. A heart shaped tag hangs from the ring.

It’s everything he hates about Christmas decorations—an abundance of glitter and gold and a dearth of taste. It’s appalling. Kiyoomi bolts.

“Wha—hey! Kii-chan!”

He hears Atsumu stumble over the bags to follow him into the apartment.

Atsumu’s apartment is not particularly large. There’s the kitchen, the living area, a small bathroom and toilet, and then a bedroom down a short hall. Kiyoomi bolts for the bedroom on instinct, and attempts to dive under the bed. He’s a little too big, and his rear-end and tail stick out.

“Kii-chan! It’s just a collar. Just so we can go on walks and stuff!” Atsumu is right behind him, and gently pats his back. He doesn’t make any movement to pull out Kiyoomi from under the bed, but Kiyoomi hears him settle onto the floor next to him. “I wouldn’t want you to get lost again. I checked with some local vets and shelters, but nobody seems to be looking for you. I figure, this’ll just make sure you won’t get lost before anyone claims you.”

That’s right. This is all temporary. Atsumu wouldn’t just keep a stray dog he found on a whim, would he?

“But, if,” and Atsumu’s pats turn into gentle scratching. It feels good, the fingers carding through the thick fur and smoothing up his tail. “If nobody claims you, I’ll be happy to take you in. In a heartbeat, Kii-chan.”

And Atsumu’s voice sounds so sincere, quiet and earnest. Kiyoomi can hear the little thread of hope in his words, hope that this dog finds a home, and hope that its home might just be here. 

He relents, scooting out from the bed and sitting down with a huff next to Atsumu.

Atsumu looks at him with a tender smile, and Kiyoomi valiantly holds still as he fastens the abominable collar around his neck.

“Alright, now that we’ve got you all festive, we ought to get the rest of the place dressed up, right?” Atsumu says, clapping his hands together.

===

Atsumu loves Christmas. If their argument wasn’t enough of a hint, the rest of the day makes it abundantly clear to Kiyoomi. Apparently, Atsumu never had the hard break from being a kid at Christmas and getting presents from Santa-san to the holiday revolving around whether or not you had a date for the night.

Kiyoomi didn’t have that hard break either, but that’s because his older brother and sister did not entertain the idea of “Santa-san” for very long with him, despite his parents’ best efforts. That, and Kiyoomi wasn’t interested in dating until recently.

So Christmas has never been particularly special for Kiyoomi, but watching the display of festive spirit from Atsumu is a kind of revelation.

Kiyoomi sits on the floor in the living room, watching in curiosity and mild awe as Atsumu manages to produce several boxes labeled “CHRISTMAS” in his messy scrawl from somewhere in this tiny apartment. From the boxes, Atsumu assembles a small Christmas tree, pulls out a variety of ornaments, and untangles several strings of lights that eventually adorn the walls and balcony, bringing the apartment alive with a warm glow.

All throughout this process, there’s a cheesy playlist of foreign Christmas songs filtering out from Atsumu’s phone. It’s loud, and bright, and annoying to Kiyoomi’s dog eyes and dog ears. It would, frankly, grate on Kiyoomi’s human eyes and ears. But Atsumu looks cheerful, humming away and singing along unabashedly off-key to the music that Kiyoomi can’t find it in him to be annoyed.

On the contrary, something about seeing Atsumu’s unrestrained joy makes Kiyoomi happy too, and his dog self just reacts. His tail wags. His tongue lolls. He follows Atsumu around and sometimes Atsumu picks his front paws up in a silly little dance.

Kiyoomi loves it, loves this man and his terrible tone-deaf singing and all the little stories he tells Kiyoomi about each of the ornaments he pulls out, interspersed with anecdotes of past winter and Christmas memories. It’s a whole new dimension to this man that he might have never seen.

Suddenly he feels even worse about yesterday, when he disparaged what is clearly one of Atsumu’s favorite holidays, romantic or not.

He wants to make it up to Atsumu as soon as possible, but what can he do as a dog? He realizes that Atsumu cherishes Christmas in a different way than him now, and he wants to share it with Kiyoomi. He has a whole new understanding of Atsumu. Wasn’t that his wish? Is this enough? What more is he meant to learn?

*   
==   
===   
=

_ December 21st _

Kiyoomi opens his eyes to another day as a dog, disappointingly. He thought maybe the magic would wear off overnight, but the resolution to this furry problem eludes him.

He stretches from his curled up position in the dog bed. At least he is comfortable, all things considered. Atsumu got him the pet equivalent of a luxury bed. Even the food isn’t terrible to his dog taste-buds, after he got over his displeasure at how inexcusably messy it is to eat and drink as a dog. Instinct and necessity won out, in the end. Kiyoomi hopes that if—when—he turns back into a human, no one will be there to see, and he can take his personal knowledge of canine cuisine with him to the grave.

In the bed above him, Atsumu stirs. Unlike Kiyoomi, Atsumu usually leaves his bedroom windows uncovered. The morning sun, though weak in the winter, rouses him naturally when he doesn’t have other engagements. It was an adjustment the first time Kiyoomi stayed over, used to the total darkness of his own bedroom and the precision of his phone alarm, relentlessly early even on the weekends.

Since they’re on break until after the new year, Atsumu doesn’t have an alarm turned on unless he needs one. Now, as the dim winter light filters into the room, Atsumu rouses slowly.

“Ki—” Atsumu breathes out, slurring from sleep, and Kiyoomi’s ears twitch, “—omi.”

Atsumu rolls over in the bed, facing where Kiyoomi lies. He opens his eyes, and for a second looks disappointed. Then, his eyes focus on the dog in front of him, and he smiles sleepily.

“Hey, Kii-chan,” Atsumu says. He pats the bed in front of him. “You want to come up, boy?”

Kiyoomi bristles. Dogs are pretty clean animals, which is part of why Kiyoomi likes them. But, he is also now intimately aware of exactly how much fur he sheds as a dog, undercoat be damned. There is no way he is bringing that into a bed that he, as a human, sleeps on with some regularity.

Atsumu’s smile goes a little wry. “Ah, prickly just like your namesake. Don’t worry Kii-chan, I won’t take it personally. Not after knowing Omi-kun for so long.”

Wait, what does he mean by that? Kiyoomi perks up even more, but Atsumu has already turned away again, lying on his back and staring blankly at the ceiling.

If only he could speak, prompt Atsumu to say more. It’s so frustrating to have this unfiltered glimpse into Atsumu’s life, but no way to communicate what he interprets as Kiyoomi, no way to ask him to elaborate. He does the first thing he can think of instead, standing and moving closer to the bed, nuzzling Atsumu’s hand. A soft whine escapes, unbidden, and Atsumu turns to look at Kiyoomi again.

“Aw, Kii-chan, I told you, don’t worry ‘bout it. I love Omi-kun too much for it to matter,” he says, working his hand into Kiyoomi’s fur and scratching his ears. He’s not sure if the shot of happiness running through him is from the ear scritches or the way Atsumu said he loves him. 

Atsumu keeps talking, almost mindlessly, as he pets Kiyoomi. “But, he’s not much of a touchy-feely kind of guy, you know? He never has been. I don’t want to make him feel like he has to hug me all the time or anything, but. Well. It would be nice if he were a little more open to that kind of affection with me sometimes. Like you! Who’s a good boy?”

And just like that, Atsumu flips a switch and starts furiously petting Kiyoomi’s whole head. Maybe one of the most bizarre and frustrating parts of being a part of Atsumu’s life like this is the wild oscillation between candid, vulnerable moments and mindless, fluffy cooing. Kiyoomi wants to think about it more, think about what Atsumu just told him, but the ear scritches are just. Too. Good.

Atsumu stops eventually, but just to get out of bed and start getting dressed. Kiyoomi cocks his head, watching Atsumu dress and do some minor stretches to prepare for a morning run. When Atsumu leads both of them to the entryway and rummages through the pet store bags again, Kiyoomi’s apprehension rises a bit.

“Alright boy, do you want to go for a run with me?” Atsumu says, pulling out a simple looking belt with a leash attachment. He kneels down to fix the leash to Kiyoomi’s collar. “Let’s give this a try, huh? Work up an appetite. We’ve got a lot to do today.” 

===

Even on four legs instead of two, the rhythm of moving in tandem with Atsumu is familiar, even comforting, akin to their teamwork on the court. Honestly, it’s kind of fun as a dog, though he would rather be by Atsumu’s side as himself, hands, er, paws down.

They are not far along though before Atsumu gently pulls Kiyoomi to a halt in front of a small alleyway and guides them down. Kiyoomi walks beside Atsumu, confused. It’s only been about a mile, give or take. 

He stops them in front of a small storefront. Kiyoomi looks up at the sign. It’s a used bookstore, of all things. Atsumu unhooks the leash from the belt and then bends down to affix it to a nearby pole. 

“Alright Kii-chan, I’ll be right back, you stay, okay?”

Kiyoomi, mystified, just sits down and watches Atsumu duck into the store. He can see him conversing with the shopkeeper inside through the main window, but can’t hear anything.

Atsumu seems to be describing something, gesturing with his hands. The shopkeeper makes a thoughtful expression, then references something on the counter. He takes his time writing something, and eventually hands Atsumu a piece of paper. Atsumu bows profusely before heading back out towards Kiyoomi, tucking the paper neatly into a pocket.

“Good boy, Kii-chan!” He coos as soon as he gets to Kiyoomi, reattaching the leash to the running belt. “Ahhh, that one didn’t have ‘em, but I got a list of other places to try, so not a total bust.”

_ Didn’t have what?  _ Kiyoomi waits for Atsumu to explain, but Atsumu just taps his toes into the pavement and does a short overhead arm stretch. Kiyoomi barks in frustration.

“That’s right, Kii-chan, back to our fun run, yeah? Okay buddy, let’s go!” 

They take off, Atsumu with a mysterious piece of paper, and Kiyoomi with one more mystery to sniff out.

===

After they return from their run, Atsumu showers and fixes breakfast for the two of them. Kiyoomi, trying not to get used to the sensation of eating as a dog, watches with interest as Atsumu finishes cleaning up from breakfast, only to pull out more things from the pantry and the depths of the kitchen cupboards.

On one of his first visits to Atsumu’s apartment, he commented on the oversized microwave-oven in the kitchen, not something he expected Atsumu to go to the trouble of adding to his apartment appliances.

“What, you think Samu got all the good kitchen genes or something?” Atsumu had said at the time. When Kiyoomi told him to prove it, Atsumu had smirked a little. “You’ll just have to wait and see, Omi-omi!”

Atsumu is a decent cook, that much is obvious after several shared meals at each other’s apartments. But quickly becoming apparent now is that Atsumu wanted to show off his exceptional baking skills.

Kiyoomi watches with fascination as Atsumu maneuvers amongst the equipment and ingredients with the air of a seasoned pro, even in his postage-stamp of a kitchen. He turns on the same cheesy playlist from the before, humming along as he measures and mixes and eventually bounces between pulling sheets of fresh cookies from the oven and delicately frosting them.

When Atsumu is busy at the counter mixing a batch of something new, Kiyoomi sneaks over to the counter and leans up with his front paws to look at the treats coming together.

Atsumu isn’t a professional by any stretch. But, he’s also clearly well-practiced in this craft, frosting and other confectionery decorations placed with precision and care.

Kiyoomi knows that for all his outward brashness and bravado, Atsumu is a careful person. But seeing this variation on that conscientiousness, a physical product of care in craft and dedication is a new level of wonder for him.

“Hey! Kii-chan, down!”

Kiyoomi startles, jumping back down lightly.

“No cookies for doggos! Not good!”

Atsumu scolds him, but lightly. He ushers Kiyoomi out of the kitchen with a new reindeer-shaped chew toy. Kiyoomi gives a few cursory tugs at it until Atsumu seems convinced he can be left to his own devices. When he goes back to the kitchen, Kiyoomi drops the toy immediately. This culinary epiphany has Kiyoomi reconsidering some things.

He always thought he knew Atsumu pretty well. He does like him, romantically, and chose to date him, after all. It’s not just a whim. He fell in love with the setter for more reasons than his curated appearance and outward bluster. Atsumu’s attentiveness and selflessness, juxtaposed with relentless ambition and zeal captivated him too. They drive each other to be better, both on the court and off. And against all logic, Atsumu makes him laugh, makes him smile, makes him look forward to every new day by his side. There are a multitude of beautiful little things he got to see in him as a fellow player, then as a teammate, then as a friend, before calling him a lover too.

But when was the last time he deliberately asked Atsumu to share things about himself? He is the type of person to observe another and draw conclusions from that, but it’s not perfect. You can’t learn everything that way. And, Kiyoomi thinks, Atsumu probably likes to be asked. 

He’s been relying on their ease as teammates and friends, comfortable in the fact that things are already good and maybe a little too optimistic that more good things would come naturally. Which, of course, some things would; some things need not be rushed. Some things can only happen naturally. But it’s important to take initiative too, and in retrospect, Kiyoomi has been lacking in this respect.

Well, he certainly can’t ask any questions the way he is now, but he can still put in the effort to learn more about his boyfriend. It may still be just observation, but there’s a lot to learn from a person’s living space, whether it is the presence or absence of things. He won’t snoop, that feels wrong, but he’s never really taken the time to look at Atsumu’s apartment either. Perhaps this is another piece of the puzzle to his transformation.

He wanders around the apartment with renewed purpose, observing everything with fresh eyes. The kotatsu that seemed too large for the space is maybe because Atsumu hopes to have more people over. An abundance of blankets stacked in a basket by the couch could be for guests, not just half-hearted decoration. A stack of magazines and clipped articles on a desk are organized by a system only Atsumu understands, but show his dedication to knowing the league inside and out. So many mundane and minor pieces of Atsumu’s life that tell him something new, and more importantly, make him want to learn more.

Then, something else catches his eye. On the nightstand in the bedroom is a slightly crumpled piece of paper. It must be the same one from earlier this morning, courtesy of the bookseller. Kiyoomi noses it open, and sees a long list of what appears to be specialized or used booksellers. It doesn’t solve the mystery, but it seems like Atsumu is looking for a rare or unusual book for some reason. 

By the time Kiyoomi meanders back into the kitchen, it smells heavenly throughout the apartment. Kiyoomi would be salivating as a human, and as a dog it is a hundred times worse (or better?). There are neat pastry boxes and little glittery cellophane bags stacked on the table, all trimmed with simple, but precise decoration.

“There you are, you sneaky dog,” Atsumu greets him, tying off one of the bags. “There, all packed up for everyone now.” And of course none of these are for Atsumu himself.

There’s one box in particular that smells tantalizing. Kiyoomi may have the senses of a dog right now, but his human preferences remain. It smells strongly of bergamot, and lavender. Kiyoomi tilts his head back, nose in the air, right below the exquisite scent. 

“Hey now, Kii-chan,” Atsumu says, lightly bopping his nose, “you definitely can’t have those. Those are  _ extra _ special. For my Omi-I-don’t-like-sweets-kun. I found a shortbread recipe for earl grey and lavender cookies,” Atsumu explains, putting on a smug look for Kiyoomi’s benefit, “and it’s supposed to be the real traditional kind of shortbread, not too sweet at all. I know Omi-kun loves drinking this tea too, so I thought it’d be a perfect treat for him.”

Atsumu rambles on about the intricacies of the recipe, but all Kiyoomi hears is the swell of his own heart at the truly, wondrously endearing person that is Miya Atsumu.

===

Kiyoomi stirs from a late evening nap when he hears the balcony door slide open. Atsumu had just been quietly cleaning up earlier, so Kiyoomi was sure he wouldn’t miss anything important. Now, he moves to sit just behind the glass, the crack of the door leaving everything audible to his keen hearing.

Atsumu leans on the railing, looking over the view. Kiyoomi sees him pull his phone out, and toy with it a bit before pushing at the screen and lifting it to his ear.

Kiyoomi hears the faint strains of his own voicemail message and briefly panics. He’s been banking on their so-called break and Atsumu’s meticulous care to mind his boundaries as an excuse for why he wouldn’t be answering texts or calls. He wasn’t worried about his parents, since he hadn’t told them the specific day he would arrive yet, so no one is expecting him in Tokyo, though they would start wondering soon. But if Atsumu gets suspicious, who knows what havoc that would wreak?

Atsumu doesn’t seem fazed by the voicemail prompt. He simply breathes out a little cloud of vapor into the cold night air, then talks quietly into the receiver.

“Hey, Omi-kun, I know you said we’d talk when you get back, but I, uh, just wanted to wish you a merry—well. Wish you a safe trip. Hope you have a good time with your family. I’ll see you after New Years, yeah? Call me when you get back.”

*   
==   
===   
=

_ December 22nd _

Kiyoomi expects this day to go much like the one before, minus excessive baking, but Atsumu’s phone alarm startles him awake much earlier than he anticipates.

He jerks up to the cacophony of klaxons that Atsumu insists is the only noise that wakes him up. In bed, Atsumu groans, and rolls over to turn the noise off. It’s still mostly dark outside, the dim ambiance of city lights only suggesting the outline of objects.

Kiyoomi trots over to the bed, nosing against Atsumu’s hand, wondering at the reason for the alarm.

“Mornin’ Kii-chan,” Atsumu murmurs, one eye flickering open to look at the dog beside him. He yawns, and pushes himself up to stretch and dress. When he skips the running gear and pulls on neat, but casual clothes instead, Kiyoomi cocks his head in confusion.

Atsumu pats him on the head as he turns to leave the bedroom. “Sorry, Kii-chan, no run today. We’ve got a special trip.”

He goes to the kitchen and fills Kiyoomi’s bowl, but doesn’t make any breakfast for himself, just brews coffee and fills not one, but two travel mugs. The boxes of baked goods and cookies from yesterday are already packed in a larger bag, and Atsumu sits at the table, absentmindedly stroking Kiyoomi’s head while he stares across his apartment.

The phone on the table starts vibrating fiercely with a call, and Kiyoomi’s ears perk when Atsumu picks up.

A tinny voice comes through the speaker: “Tsumu, you better be up.”

“Yeah yeah, we’re on our way down.”

He gathers up his stuff and hooks the leash to Kiyoomi’s collar. They leave the apartment and head downstairs, where a small hatchback idles next to the building. The trunk pops open and the doors click as they approach the car. Atsumu shoves his bags into the trunk before gesturing for Kiyoomi to jump into the back, then moves to the front passenger seat.

Osamu doesn’t say anything to Atsumu as he settles in and buckles up, but he eyes Kiyoomi through the rearview mirror.

“You weren’t kidding,” he finally says.

“Why the hell would I joke about getting a dog?” Atsumu gripes with no bite, still drowsy.

“You said you  _ found _ a dog, you didn’t say you were  _ keeping _ it, Tsumu.”

“Well. Things happened. Cute, isn’t he? His name is Kiyotarou. I call him Kii-chan.”

“Yeah, sure, things happened,” Osamu says as they pull away from the complex. “Do ‘things’ have anything to do with how you and your commitment-phobic boyfriend are, and I quote, ‘taking a break,’ over one of the most romantic holidays of the year?”

Commitment- _ what? _

“Okay, I might have been exaggerating when I said we were taking a break. It’s more like. You know. Omi-kun is on a break. He’s going to see his family in Tokyo and doesn’t want to be distracted. It’s fine. We’re fine.” Atsumu’s tone is deliberately casual for how much difficulty he has articulating exactly where their relationship stands right now.

“You named a dog after him,” Samu replies, skeptically.

“And he’s  _ not _ commitment-phobic, Samu,” Atsumu sighs, exasperated, like they’ve had this conversation before. On the one hand, Kiyoomi is relieved Atsumu thinks so, because it’s true. On the other hand, he’s a little pissed that Osamu seems to think otherwise. Is that what their relationship would look like to others? They’ve only been dating for three months.

“We’ve only been dating for like, three months, cut the guy some slack here. We’re taking it slow”

“Yeah, three months, and you’ve been on what, three dates? Slow, or glacial?”

“More than three!”

“...”

“C’mon, Samu, we see each other all the time even if it’s not a date. We were friends and teammates first, it takes some time to adjust,” Atsumu says, scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration. 

“I’m just—”

“I know,” Atsumu cuts him off, and looks over at Osamu with a meaningful look. Twin telepathy or something. Scary. “And I appreciate it. But I know Omi. He is serious about this. As serious as I am. I know that for sure.”

Osamu doesn’t say anything in response to that. His eyes flick between the road, his brother, and even Kiyoomi in the back seat.

They’re on the expressway now, cruising west, towards Hyogo, Kiyoomi guesses. After a long pause where Atsumu fiddles with the bluetooth connection on his phone and the soppy strains of this year’s Japanese Christmas hits start to filter through the car, Osamu speaks again.

“Hey. You know, if you just need to get out of town, you can come with us. Yukie wouldn’t mind,” he says, tone light.

“Shirofuku-chan would definitely mind,” Atsumu grumbles.

“She knows we’re a package deal, sometimes, Tsumu. When it’s important. And, hell. Maybe you could meet up with Sakusa, fellow Tokyo-ites and all.”

“Nah, no way, I don’t want to be the third wheel to you, you gross sappy couple.” Atsumu hunches down into his seat. “‘Sides I know Omi wouldn’t appreciate the surprise. He said we’d talk when he gets back, so we’ll talk when he gets back.”

Osamu gives him an unimpressed look. “You know, far be it from me to tell you you’re being too considerate, but have you thought that this should be a two-way street kind of deal? You don’t have to follow his cues for everything. You should be able to call him when you want.”

Atsumu slouches down further, and grouses at Osamu, “Don’t give me that look, scrub. I  _ did _ call him, I’m not leaving this entirely to some half-assed ultimatum. Just haven’t heard back. Yet. Turning up at his doorstep, unannounced though? No way. That’s just a one-way ticket to the singles club, I’m sure of it.”

Atsumu has been right on everything he’s said about Kiyoomi so far, except for this moment. And it hurts more that Kiyoomi would like to admit. 

Kiyoomi would not dump Atsumu if he turned up unannounced on his doorstep in Tokyo. Atsumu underestimates him. But, as he thinks on it more, maybe that’s unfair, Maybe he underestimates how much Atsumu shows him consideration, even at the cost of his own feelings.

He lets out a soft whine in spite of himself, and Atsumu bounces up, turning back to reach over and pet him across the center console.

“Aw, Kii-chan, don’t worry, we’ll be there soon,” he murmurs.

They stop talking about Kiyoomi after that. Atsumu steers the conversation towards regaling Osamu with how much of a good boy Kiyotarou is, look how cute he is, isn’t he the best doggo in the world? And Osamu indulges him, sniping back at Atsumu with playful insults, easy affection disguised in blunt words and sarcasm.

By the time they pull up to a small house in suburban Amagasaki, Atsumu glows with something Kiyoomi didn’t realize had been missing these past few days, in the moments between festive frenzy. His smile is quicker, his eyes look brighter. He’s so much at ease, something Kiyoomi didn’t realize he lost when their last conversation had been so fraught. It only grows more apparent as a warm couple bundles them inside the house, the whole place bustling with all manner of chatter and activity.

Atsumu flourishes under love and affection; Kiyoomi knows this. He knows this, but he let himself forget, somehow. Osamu’s words seem harsh, but the jabs only pull Atsumu’s grin wider when he gives them right back. Their mom talks up a storm, chattering on about their neighbors, her friends, her coworkers, and how she loves to tell them all about her wonderful sons. Their dad is more reserved, but asks each of his sons about their jobs, their days, asks insightful questions that prompt long discussions, ruffles their hair when he passes either of them in the hall like they aren’t almost taller than him. 

And watching all this, Kiyoomi feels at odds with himself. He fell in love with this Atsumu, so how could he be so remiss? He should be making Atsumu smile and laugh like that too, as Kiyoomi the person, not as Kii-chan the dog.

===

Much of the day is spent distributing out sweets to friends and family. A sizable chunk of Atsumu’s confections stay with his parents to be shared with family and neighbors, but Atsumu and Osamu go around town dropping in on friends and handing out treats as well, Kiyoomi tagging along. He doesn’t really recognize any of them, maybe a few vaguely familiar faces from their high school volleyball team, but it doesn’t matter; they are all delighted to see the twins and receive gifts of onigiri and sweets.

===

Later, after lunch, Osamu joins their father elsewhere while Atsumu helps their mom in the kitchen. Kiyoomi curls up on a rug just outside the room, trying not to doze off, when their conversation shifts and catches his attention.

“Atsumu, honey, you know, I know I don’t know all the details, but if you want to join your father and me, we can always add you to our reservation. There’s still time for that. Kii-chan could come stay here. Our neighbors would look after him.”

“Oh, geez, first Samu, now you. Please, I don’t want to crash my  _ parents’ _ Christmas date, ew.”

She playfully smacks his head, but then pulls him down into a hug. Atsumu reciprocates. “You’re not ‘crashing’ anything, Atsumu, we’re family. Christmas might be for lovers in Japan, but it’s for family, too, for us.”

“I know, mom. And thanks, I appreciate the offer, but I’m gonna be fine. Kii-chan is plenty of good company. I’ll be back for the party the next day, anyways.” He hugs his mom tighter. Kiyoomi almost wishes he could be anywhere but here, right now, listening to this private conversation, but then he remembers exactly where his last wish got him. He curls up tighter, and tucks his head down.

===

Atsumu drives them back that evening, dropping Osamu off at the station to catch a train to Tokyo, then continues back towards Higashiosaka. 

When they near Atsumu’s apartment after the long drive and Atsumu parks in a nearby parking garage, Kiyoomi feels restless despite the long day. He’s tired of being a dog. He’s tired of not being able to say anything, or do anything to show what he’s learned these past three days. More than anything now, he wants to spend Christmas with Atsumu, as himself.

*   
==   
===   
=

_ December 23rd _

Kiyoomi wakes up late. As a dog, he naps a lot during the day, even though he tries to keep an eye on Atsumu to figure out how to break this curse. Resolve this wish. Whatever. He is also now accustomed to stirring with the first inkling of sound from Atsumu in the morning, intentional or not. So it’s disorienting to wake up to an empty bed in front of him. The digital clock on the nightstand reads 8:37. Atsumu probably hasn’t been up long.

When Kiyoomi pads into the living room, he sees Atsumu at the kotatsu. He’s hunched over, nursing a cup of coffee with one hand and referencing his phone while scribbling something on a piece of paper with the other. 

Kiyoomi walks over and nuzzles up next to Atsumu. He’s not cold, but it feels good. Atsumu automatically moves his hand from the coffee mug and reaches around to pet Kiyoomi.

“Hey Kii-chan,” he murmurs, morning voice gravelly, scrubbing at Kiyoomi’s ears while continuing his work. It looks like he’s looking up the bookstores from the mysterious list and grouping them together by proximity, drawing up a rough schematic of their locations by neighborhood.

Kiyoomi watches Atsumu’s concentration with his own quiet focus. It’s refreshing spending mornings with Atsumu like this. Even when Kiyoomi stays over, a quiet morning in each other’s company is unknown; they’re either bantering like usual or in a rush to be on their way to practice.

Those mornings are fine too, but he wants to spend more mornings like this. It suffuses him with a warmth that emanates from his heart and leaves him feeling soft and at peace. He quietly resolves to do that as soon as he’s human again.

===

What follows their tranquil morning is the strangest day in Kiyoomi’s tenure as Atsumu’s pet dog so far. Atsumu leashes him up, but they go to Osamu’s car instead of walking around the neighborhood. They drive into another ward, and Atsumu parks the car in an unassuming public lot.

Then, they walk.

They walk a lot. They meander through small shopping districts, and discreet neighborhoods with miscellaneous shops. Atsumu guides them to the different bookshops on the list, leaving Kiyoomi outside each one to go in and talk. When Kiyoomi can see into the store, Atsumu always talks to the shopkeeper, gesturing a bit, and bowing politely when they shake their head after consulting an inventory list or checking a back room. 

Then, they drive to another part of the city and repeat the process again.

They must have visited over twenty different stores before someone lets Kiyoomi inside. The store is down a lonely residential street, tucked into a hillside on the way towards a shrine. The shopkeeper sees Atsumu move to leave Kiyoomi outside, but catches his eye instead and points at Kiyoomi, beckoning them both inside.

Most of the bookstores they’ve visited seem the same—more like personal collections of the owners that they only maybe will sell. Some are neat, but intimate rows of bookcases, some are more haphazard stacks of books, all have been both familiar and wondrous in varying ways. This shop is a mixture of the two, calm and clutter intermingling in a clean, warm interior.

“Good afternoon, young man,” the older man at the counter smiles at Atsumu, then leans over the counter to look down at Kiyoomi. “And good afternoon to you, pooch.”

Kiyoomi remembers to wag his tail obligingly, and the man’s eyes crinkle up more in joy. He addresses Atsumu again.

“What can I help you with?”

“Ah, yes. I’m looking for a series. It’s in, uh. French. It’s called  _ Le Chateau des Étoiles _ —”

Kiyoomi’s head whips up to look at Atsumu. Of all things, Atsumu is looking for that? 

“—it’s for a gift. They really loved it as a child, but never got to finish the series, since the publisher stopped the Japanese editions. But, they know French now, I’m sure they’d love to read it again, in the original language. Finally finish the series and all.”

Kiyoomi mentioned this once, before they were dating. It was during some group interview with the Jackals, talking about favorite things from their childhood and other inane personal trivia. Kiyoomi adored those books. They were richly illustrated, elaborate in world building, and captivating with their narrative. He picked up the first volume when he was eight. At ten years old, he eagerly waited for the last two volumes, but sadly, they never published in Japan. It wasn’t a big deal after all this time, but it always bothered Kiyoomi when he remembered it.

He doesn’t even know how Atsumu knows that he speaks French.

“So, I managed to order some of the series, but a few of the volumes were out of print. I figure I might be able to find an odd copy in at least one of the specialty shops in this city, or elsewhere, if I have to.”

Atsumu pulls out another piece of paper, evidently with titles scrawled out in the original French and in katakana.

“So, do you recognize them, or maybe you might know a shop that would have these?”

The man squints at the list thoughtfully, then nods. 

“I may have received some of this series in the original text some years ago.”

“Really?” Atsumu’s eyes light up. 

“Let’s go have a look,” the man says, chuckling, and leads them between narrowly placed shelving to a particular corner of the shop. Kiyoomi can practically feel Atsumu vibrating with excitement as they walk further into the store.

When they reach a particular shelf and the man gestures to a row of books near the bottom, Atsumu fist pumps.

The man smiles, and then oddly, winks at Kiyoomi. “Well, looks like you found exactly what you were looking for, didn’t you?”

Kiyoomi shivers, not from fear, but from a sudden comprehension of serendipity. For an instant, the storekeeper seems ageless and profound. Then, he blinks, and the man is back to his genial self. He takes the books from Atsumu back to the counter to wrap them for sale, and only acknowledges Kiyoomi with one last gentle head pat as they head out the door.

Atsumu beams as they step outside, looking down at Kiyoomi.

“Well, that was perfect! How lucky, huh?”

Kiyoomi isn’t sure if he’d call it luck, but he feels uncomfortable calling it fate or divine intervention too. 

Maybe he’ll just have to call it a kind of Christmas magic, and leave it at that.

*   
==   
===   
=

_ December 24th _

When Kiyoomi wakes up on Christmas Eve as a dog, a small part of him starts to wonder if this isn’t a lesson so much as a punishment. He wants nothing more than to be Kiyoomi, Atsumu’s boyfriend, who can eat his homemade shortbread cookies, go see an illumination display with him, and reciprocate his meaningful gift. Wait, that’s not quite true—the only thing he wants more is to tell Atsumu how much he loves him and loves what Christmas brings out in him.

It doesn’t feel right, Atsumu being alone today. Atsumu has so much love to give, and so many people who love him, Kiyoomi included. His friends and family are together with someone else, and Atsumu would have been too. Kiyoomi feels deeply bitter with himself for this fact.

However, when Atsumu wakes up and they start going about their day together—another morning run, a simple breakfast—he doesn’t seem particularly disappointed. For as strongly as Atsumu felt about having a romantic Christmas date, he doesn’t spend the day wallowing over it. They do many of the same things they did the last few days, albeit at a more casual pace. 

Atsumu turns on the same terrible playlist of Christmas music, now a heinous mixture of both foreign classics and Japanese singles, and hums along as he bakes some more simple cookies. He pulls out the books he bought yesterday, and meticulously wraps them. While they’re on their evening walk, he stops to pick up fried chicken from the convenience store and a small cake from the bakery around the corner. 

They settle in for the night with a series of holiday-themed movies playing on the television, Atsumu tucked into the kotatsu, munching on mikan, with Kiyoomi curled up next to him, half his attention on the screen, half on Atsumu.

If there’s one thing that’s a little different about today, it’s that Atsumu is a little...quieter. He hummed along with the music instead of singing. He didn’t chatter on to Kiyoomi as much. And Kiyoomi is used to Atsumu’s funny running side commentary to movies when they’re not at a theater, but this Atsumu is silent. He doesn’t look troubled, but his face is eerily dispassionate. 

On the screen, a couple manages to meet up against all odds and share an emotional kiss in front of an ostentatious Christmas tree. Kiyoomi feels weirdly both jealous and uncomfortably self-aware; he, too, is essentially living out a sappy Christmas movie, he just hasn’t gotten his happy ending yet.

The credits start rolling, and instead of selecting the next movie, Atsumu flops down on the table top.

“Ahhh Kii-chan, all these sappy movies got me in a mood now. And just when I thought I was going to escape the Christmas blues,” he bemoans. One hand drops from the table to the top of Kiyoomi’s head and rubs a lazy circle into the fur.

Kiyoomi can’t respond the way he’d like to, so he just leans into the contact. Atsumu stays prone on the table. The credits end and the apartment is silent. 

Originally, Kiyoomi’s frustrated wish was because of their argument; their different expectations for each other didn’t make sense to him at the time. They do now after these past few days, but now it’s this moment, more than any before, that Kiyoomi really wishes he could know what goes on in Atsumu’s mind.

“You know, according to Samu, when we were in middle school, everybody on the team hated me,” Atsumu says, unprompted. He doesn’t sound too upset about it, as nonchalant as describing the most mundane weather. Kiyoomi internally starts anyway. Did the gods hear him once again? Atsumu continues talking.

“But I never really cared what other people thought about me, you know? I only cared about getting better at volleyball, and doing everything I could to get where I wanted to be. Somehow, though, after all this time, I think Omi-kun is the first person that got me thinking about  _ who _ I wanted to be—to him at least.

“I mean, he’s just. So impressive? All the time. Doing everything properly, to his utmost effort…” Atsumu starts getting animated again, listing qualities that Kiyoomi never thought Atsumu would associate with him. It’s embarrassing, but only because he can’t believe how much Atsumu sees in him.

“...Not to mention his looks, I mean. He’s got the whole sexy moles things going on, of course, but let me just say, those forehead moles? Not even in my top five. And that hair. University was good to Omi-kun—”

Kiyoomi can’t blush as a dog, but he still can’t take this anymore. He paws at the hand Atsumu has on him, trying to distract him from the monologue. It works. He turns to Kiyoomi and starts vigorously rubbing his head, scratching his ears, and all but snuggling him. He ends up slightly bowed over Kiyoomi, fingers curled in the scruff of the neck, lightly rubbing soothing circles into the fur. 

“Kii-chan, I’m so glad I found you,” he says. “You’re the best Christmas gift to me this year. The only thing better would be sharing you with Omi-kun. I’m sure he’ll love you. He definitely has a soft spot for dogs.”

Atsumu stays like that, curved over Kiyoomi, and Kiyoomi thinks he’s finished his almost-maudlin rambling. It’s nearing time for bed. For a moment, Kiyoomi thinks Atsumu is about to get up, but instead, he shifts, bringing his head down to touch his forehead to the top of Kiyoomi’s head.

“I just wish I could know what he sees in me,” Atsumu whispers into Kiyoomi’s fur. Kiyoomi freezes, heart stuttering at the raw feeling in Atsumu’s quiet voice.

There’s so much he sees in Atsumu. So much. And he can’t wait to tell him.

===

It’s late. Atsumu fell asleep hours ago, but Kiyoomi hasn’t been able to, just continues watching him sleep from the dog bed. Watching, but not really seeing. Instead, his mind turns over the last few days: the things he learned, the assumptions he uncovered, the thoughts he disassembled and reassembled. The decisions he made to move forward.

He can’t act on most of his resolutions until he’s back to normal again, lacking human speech and opposable thumbs. One, though, he can definitely do, even as a dog.

Kiyoomi has never been a physically affectionate person. He spent most of his childhood alone. His parents were often at work, and his siblings had already left the house when he entered elementary school. Motoya was an exception, but even then, it was spare, fleeting, mostly out of necessity over comfort. He rarely initiates contact, intimate or not.

Kiyoomi-the-human can do without affectionate touches. Kiyoomi-the-dog can’t, and he doesn’t want to. And Atsumu has been more than willing to oblige throughout this whole ordeal.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s time for Kiyoomi to return the favor. It’s Christmas, after all.

Kiyoomi rises quietly and moves towards the bed. Atsumu is on his side, turned away from him and laying on the far side of the mattress. The space behind his back is open, daunting. When Kiyoomi springs up lightly, Atsumu doesn’t stir. Kiyoomi scoots over, fusses around to find the perfect spot, then drops down to curl up against Atsumu’s back. 

Next to him, back to back, Atsumu’s steady breathing of one deeply asleep doesn’t change, but Kiyoomi likes to think he feels something in Atsumu shift anyways. He drifts off to the soothing rhythm, hoping the next time he falls asleep with Atsumu will be face to face as themselves.

===

Kiyoomi dreams. He’s a dog. He walks through the park near Atsumu’s place, the same park he always goes through on his way home. The night is dark but snowflakes shimmer in the street lamps' light. In front of him, another dog waits on the path, sitting neatly, patiently. It’s the same dog he remembers from the encounter that started this whole mess.

Kiyoomi comes to a stop and sits in front of the other dog. They stare at each other calmly. It’s so quiet, they can hear the snow falling around them.

“Did you get your wish?” the dog asks, and suddenly Kiyoomi is standing over the dog, human once again.

“So it seems,” Kiyoomi says, looking down at himself, marveling at the feel of his legs and arms once again. It feels realistic for a dream. 

“Good,” the dog nods, and stands. It turns as if to leave, and Kiyoomi thoughtlessly calls out.

“Wait,” he says. The dog stops and looks back at him. “May I ask—why a dog?”

The dog turns around and wags its tail.

“Well I think I said this before, but a dog is one of the best creatures in this world to understand love. Both receiving it, and giving it. Think about it, what did you have to do as a dog to make him smile?”

Kiyoomi ponders this. Honestly, as a dog, he didn’t have to do much to make Atsumu happy. Kii-chan showed up, showed interest, and showed affection, all with no need for explanation or anything in return.

The gods were right. Dogs know a thing or two about love, because they give it so freely, and accept it so easily. Just like Atsumu—who better to understand through such means?

“Ah,” is all Kiyoomi can think to say. The dog merely nods once again, turns around, and scampers into the snowy night.

*   
==   
===   
=

_ December 25th _

Kiyoomi wakes up slowly, feeling the morning rather than seeing it as he comes awake with eyes shut to the soft winter light. He is blissfully warm, in a perfectly comfortable position. He doesn’t want to move. Atsumu’s soft breaths are just a whisper in his ear and a caress across his face.

Kiyoomi cracks an eye open, and drinks in the sight of Atsumu asleep next to him. Even in the dim winter morning light, he looks golden, warm. Kiyoomi revels in the feeling of Atsumu’s arms around his own, the contact points of skin on skin suffusing him with a wonder at being alive and in love with such a beautiful person—wait.

Skin?

Kiyoomi breathes in sharply and barely restrains himself from jerking upright. He flinches heavily instead. Even so, Atsumu stirs, blinking awake next to him.

“Kii—Kiyoomi?” Atsumu asks. 

“—mu. Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says, voice hoarse from disuse. He shifts in Atsumu’s arms, and hears a faint jingling noise.

Atsumu’s eyes flicker down just as Kiyoomi registers the weight around his neck. Dear gods above—they must think they have the most riotous sense of humor. He still has the collar on. Kiyoomi freezes, a blush creeping up his face as Atsumu’s eyes widen, then look back up at him.

“...It’s not what you think,” is Kiyoomi’s first reaction, but he honestly has no idea what Atsumu is thinking right now. Learning to understand Atsumu did not prepare him for this scenario.

“Uh,” Atsumu says eloquently. “Why are you wearing Kii-chan—er. Kiyotarou’s collar? There was a dog here when I went to sleep, right?”

This is overwhelming. He’s been a dog for five days. He fell asleep last night and woke up as himself, next to his boyfriend. He’s definitely naked under the comforter. He’s wearing a hideous, bedazzled dog collar.

“Do you really have a top five list of my moles?” Kiyoomi blurts out the first thing he can think of, and it’s maybe one of the top five worst things to say at this moment. He flushes even more.

“Nevermind!” he chokes out, and abruptly pushes himself upright, bringing his hands up to fumble with the collar.

“What—wait, I’ve never told you—” Atsumu sputters, and sits up next to him in an instant. “Hold on, hold on, you’ll hurt yourself, let me get that,” Atsumu chides, still bewildered, but he pulls Kiyoomi’s hands gently away from his own neck and carefully undoes the buckle. When he finally removes the offending object, they both stare down at it.

“I’ve never said that out loud to anyone. Except Kii-chan,” Atsumu breathes, and looks up to meet Kiyoomi’s gaze with disbelief.

“Um. Yeah. About that,” Kiyoomi takes a deep breath. No going back now. “I was Kii-chan. I know that doesn’t sound believable, believe me, well you don’t have to believe me, but I mean, I know it sounds unreal. I thought it was a dream at first too—”

“I believe you,” Atsumu says, cutting off Kiyoomi’s slowly spiraling panic. Then, he abruptly drops the collar and brings his hands up to cover his face, making a weird anguished cry muffled into his palms.

“Atsumu, are you okay?” Kiyoomi gasps, grabbing his hands with his own. Atsumu’s face is as red as Kiyoomi’s face now, and Atsumu won’t look him in the eye.

“I know this is a lot to take in right now, and probably doesn’t make a lot of sense, but—”

“It’s fine!” Atsumu chokes out. “I’m just. Processing. All the terrible things I did to you. I gave you a bath. I fed you dog food—” Kiyoomi places his hand over Atsumu’s mouth and the other stops talking.

“I’m aware of the details,” Kiyoomi’s voice cracks, but then he manages to gather himself a little and continues. “You took in a stray dog and loved him, wholeheartedly, unconditionally. You did everything you could, and more. I don’t think that’s anything to be ashamed about. I—Kii-chan—was grateful. You saved me, Atsumu. In more ways than one.”

He takes a deep breath. No reason to hide this anymore, right? And he has a lot to say, starting with an apology. 

“I’ve had just about the strangest week in my life, but please, Atsumu, will you hear me out?”

===

As it turns out, Atsumu does have plans for Christmas Day, even without Kiyoomi around, though he is a much welcome addition.

“You!” Motoya shouts and points at the two of them as soon as they enter Kita Shinsuke’s house. “What the hell, Kiyoomi? Radio silence? During the Sakusa family gathering week? Blasphemy.”

“Motoya, what are you even doing here,” Kiyoomi asks suspiciously, eyes narrowing at his cousin. “Shouldn’t you, too, be at Sakusa family gathering week?”

“I’m a plus one, thank you very much.” Ah. He always thought his cousin took an inordinate amount of glee receiving spikes from Inarizaki’s middle blocker. 

Then, Motoya seems to register exactly who he walked in with and why he must be here, at the annual Inarizaki Volleyball Club Alumni Hot Pot Party. He looks smug. “I knew it. How long?”

Kiyoomi isn’t even upset about it. “Three months, going on four,” he says, proudly.

Motoya snorts. “Took you long enough.”

===

There’s one last thing he has to do before he can join the festivities for real. Kiyoomi excuses himself from the party with a gentle kiss to Atsumu’s head, murmuring that he’ll be right back.

He steps onto the engawa and shivers a bit, pulling Atsumu’s hoodie closer to his body as he pulls out his phone.

His mom picks up on the third ring. 

“Kiyoomi? Is everything alright? We thought you’d be back in Tokyo by now,” his mom says. She sounds a little worried, but not particularly annoyed. His parents have always been the hands-off type, even more so now that he is an adult.

“Did something happen?” She prompts again at Kiyoomi’s extended silence.

“Hi, Mom. Sorry, I’m okay. I did get a little caught up in something, and didn’t have my phone for a bit. I’ll be back tomorrow, though.”

He hears his mom sigh a little, exasperated but fond.

“You know, Kiyoomi, I know we don’t gather much as a family so it seems like the new year is extra important, but it’s also okay for you to have other things to do during these holidays,” she says, and even laughs a little, “or if you or your siblings ever find some time despite your demanding careers, one of you can always bring someone home with you. We’ll always have the space for them.”

Kiyoomi inhales a little deeply in surprise, both at his mom for bringing the topic up, and also at how easily the images flood into his mind. Atsumu at his home with him in Tokyo. The cold and elegant interior of his home much warmer and brighter for his presence. Wandering the streets of Tokyo together, taking Atsumu to all the sights he hasn’t seen but would love, indulging him in all the best local spots for his favorite foods, watching his face light up at it all.

“Of course, thanks, Mom,” Kiyoomi pauses, and then decides to just try it. “Maybe...next year? Next year, there’s someone I’d like to bring home with me.”

His mom hums a little on the line and Kiyoomi holds his breath.

“Don’t wait that long, Kiyoomi. Bring him home for your birthday. We’d love to meet him.”

Tears prick at the corner of his eyes. Did they know, this whole time? 

A pair of arms envelops him from behind. Atsumu noses into the crook of Kiyoomi’s neck, burrowing his hands into the front pocket of the hoodie. He doesn’t say anything, but Kiyoomi relaxes, and leans back into him.

“Yeah. Yes, we’ll do that. I’ll see you soon, Mom.” He hangs up, and scrubs a hand over his face and through his curls quickly before tucking his phone away. Then he reaches his hands into the sweatshirt’s front pocket to interlace their fingers.

“Everything okay?” Atsumu murmurs into Kiyoomi’s shoulder.

“Mm,” Kiyoomi says, turning his head to kiss Atsumu’s temple.

They stay like that for a minute. Wrapped up together, watching the snow fall, their bodies’ combined warmth holds the cold at bay.

“What are you thinking about?” Atsumu asks, following Kiyoomi’s distant gaze over the fields.

_ You. Us. _ All the ways he’ll take what he learned and show Atsumu how much he loves him, Christmas or not.

“I was thinking we should get a dog. You have all that stuff now anyways, right?”

Atsumu laughs. “That is definitely not what I thought you’d say. Besides, I’ll admit, it was a bit impulsive to pick you up that time. I would do it again, in a heartbeat, but it would be hard to keep a dog with how busy we are.”

Kiyoomi hums in agreement. “Okay, not now then. But how about in the future, when we have all the time in the world for one?”

Kiyoomi isn’t looking at Atsumu then, eyes sweeping across the distant horizon with a soft smile on his lips. Atsumu hugs him tighter, lips quirking up in a smile against Kiyoomi’s neck.

“Yeah. Of course! We have our whole lives ahead of us, together.”

At that, they pull apart slightly, but just to angle better into a soft kiss. They finish with matching grins.

“Merry Christmas, Atsumu.”

“Merry Christmas, Kiyoomi.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The extra that Furudate drew where Sakusa talks about how dogs are cute was a Revelation™. This actually started out as a Sakusa-picks-up-Dog!Atsumu fic, and then the upcoming December holidays transformed it into this monstrosity.
> 
> 2\. This was also supposed to be a light-hearted fic because it started as a crack idea. It really took a turn at some point. There were a lot more dog jokes in the original conception, I swear.  
> Because of the change in tone, I really struggled with writing this. Frankly, I Lost the Plot at some points. In the end, it became more of an introspective love letter from Sakusa to Atsumu, so I’ve made my peace with it.
> 
> 3\. I realize I keep making Sakusa a jerk for plot reasons, I promise I love him so much, I’m sorry…
> 
> 4\. Also, please excuse me while I continue to push my Osamu/Yukie agenda. And were those Komori/Suna crumbs you picked up? Yes.
> 
> 5\. I am not an expert, but my understanding of Japan’s celebrations of Christmas is that, for non-Christians at least, it’s a fairly secular holiday, typically associated with couples/lovers and special dates/events, but also for holiday parties for friend groups/gift giving to kids. Funnily enough, [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQeh5pIp_vU&ab_channel=SHUNchan) came out while I was writing this, only helping to confirm some of these thoughts. If it seems unrealistic, that’s on me, please give me the benefit of the doubt, this is fanfiction after all...
> 
> 6\. I will link a twitter thread for this fic [here](https://twitter.com/tirralirralirra/status/1342394807407284224?s=20) with my random thoughts on it. I warn you in advance, it won't be very organized, I just didn't want to totally overwhelm the end notes section with my random notes and fun facts.
> 
> As always, feel free to say hi to me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/tirralirralirra/status/1342393662806904833?s=20)


End file.
